


wish that you were here

by linoone



Series: and now for something completely different [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Apocalypse, Archivist Sasha James, Everyone Is Alive, F/F, F/M, Gen, Relationships can be read as platonic or romantic, Reunions, except for annabelle and sasha. read that as romantic <3, gertrude parallels, s5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linoone/pseuds/linoone
Summary: The world ends and the Archivist is alone. When she finally leaves the safehouse, she can feel them though, lost and alone like she is. There is no choice but to find them.
Relationships: Annabelle Cane/Sasha James, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James, Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims, Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Sasha James/Tim Stoker, sasha james & annabelle cane
Series: and now for something completely different [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854223
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	wish that you were here

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this is kind of hard to follow i just got this idea and ran with it and i think i got some good writing in there somewhere along the line.

The world ends and the Archivist is alone. She lost each of her assistants, just like her predecessor before her. That didn’t matter to Magnus. He forced the end of the world from her lips and when she came to once again, the sky was staring back at her.

She stayed in the safehouse as long as she could. The fear of the entire world was a hard thing to get used to and the guilt had eaten her alive. She’d failed to save Jon from the Web’s clutches, only seeing the strings when it was too late. She’d failed to protect Tim from the Stranger and had let him fall to the same entity that had killed his brother. She’d failed to pull Martin from the Lonely and had almost sunk to it herself. And now she had failed the entire world and doomed it to the hellscape it was now.

But she couldn’t stay there forever, curled up on the bed. Statements poured from her lips without her control and she was tired of feeling like nothing more than a mouthpiece for all of the fears to pass through freely. 

Sasha pulled herself from the bed, put her coat on, squared her shoulders, and walked to the door. There was much to be done and a long time until she would be able to rest. Magnus would get his just desserts. But she had people she needed to find first. 

* * *

Martin was the first she found. When she’d lost him in the Lonely, it was a beach. Cloudy and gray, with just enough chill to seep through the knit of her sweater. But it was comfortable and she’d lost so much after he disappeared into the fog that she was barely able to remember what there was to come back to. Tim had been gone for over a year. Jon had been there after the Prentiss incident, but he was different, his actions no longer his own but puppeteered by someone else. Thinking of Daisy and Basira wasn’t enough to pull her back-- they’d never been all that close-- so she sank into the sand, chest tight and her eyelids drooping. It was only the memory of a surprise birthday party for Jon, and the memory of the cake and the joking around that brought her back. They were gone, sure, but she still had something to stand on. When she returned to the Archives, anchored only by a few memories held dear to her heart, she took some of the Lonely with her, both in her mind and in the new white of her hair that had just barely left her roots spared.

Now the Lonely was an empty house. She didn’t recognize it and her footsteps felt too light that the floorboards didn’t even creak or echo off the walls. There were too many doors and rooms and hallways that seemed to go to nowhere. If it wasn’t so void of color, she would say it reminded her of Helen, who, for as delighted as she was to be her temporary companion while she sought out her friends, seemed like she didn’t much want to enter the realm of another. 

Her head perked up when she heard his voice, though it sounded almost like she was underwater, his soft-spoken mumblings growing even more muffled and distorted as she grew closer.

Martin sat alone in a fancy-looking chair. It was the only piece of furniture in the room, but he didn’t seem to notice that, treating it like it was simply his living room. He was talking to himself, that much was obvious even with the rushing noise in her ears that made it hard for her to make out each word that left his mouth. He didn’t see her there.

“Martin.” Sasha said firmly, her voice clear against the garbled noise. He didn’t look up. He didn’t even acknowledge her.

She stepped around the chair and into his line of view, her steps light and almost gliding over the floor. It felt off, but she couldn’t determine why. She was quick to find out though when the archivist reached for his hand and found hers when straight through him, like she was made of thin air. He didn’t move, showing no signs of feeling her failed attempt to get his attention.

Was she the ghost or was he? 

It was hard to tell and it dashed her hopes significantly that she’d ever be able to get him away from this place. She’d already failed once before, hadn’t she?

No. She wouldn’t fail again. He was still talking, blabbering to himself about his mother and the chair and the CV she’d long since known was false. They’d even shared a laugh when she told him she would keep his secret, especially from Jon who was already looking for a reason to discredit his new coworker. Martin K. Blackwood was kind and patient and a wonderful maker of tea and she would not let him be alone again if she had any say in the matter.

“Martin.” She spoke again, more resolute. 

Her eyes glowed golden as she forced the Watcher to surface, to concentrate on becoming real in the world. His voice became clearer, to the point she could make out the tired sound in it from talking in circles. He sounded as though he was in a daze. 

She knelt in front of him, taking both his hands in hers. She was solid now, or solid enough that he could feel the warmth in her hands. His hands were so cold, she could barely feel the faint signs that he was alive. Closing her eyes, she could hear his heart beat in his chest, soft but steady.

“S-Sasha? How did you get here?” That was enough to startle her open, a relieved smile washing over her face.

“I couldn’t pull you out of here before, Martin. I’m so sorry.” Sasha managed, staring up at him as the glow of her eyes dimmed. “I’m not leaving without you though. I’ll stay here as long as it takes to get you out.”

“You-- you can’t stay here, Sasha.”

“I’m not leaving until you’re with me, Martin. We’re going to leave here together and we’re going to find Tim and Jon. I know they’re out here too. Somewhere.” There was no doubt in her mind or voice.

A long moment of silence followed and Sasha said nothing, merely holding Martin’s hands with a firm and constant grip to prove that she was there and real. She didn’t look up when she heard a choked-up sob bubble up from him.

“I don’t  _ want  _ to be lonely anymore, Sasha.” 

He pulled her up off the ground into a tight hug. His tears slowly soaked her sweater but she didn’t care. She buried her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing. Neither of them noticed as the walls folded up and away. When they both pulled away, still holding each other by their arms, they were in an empty field. The fog was gone and they both could finally breathe. 

The archivist held out a hand to Martin that he grasped tightly as she guided him away.

* * *

When she approached the circus tent, she told Martin to stay and wait. Helen was willing to keep him company and he seemed uneasy but it was certainly better than being left alone again. Before she could go on, he moved to grab her wrist.

“H-How do you know he’s in there? Tim?” His voice was soft, worried.

“I… I just know.” She’d always know when it came to him.

She gave him a squeeze of his hand before letting go, moving to the tent flap. As soon as it closed, she was left in the dark. It lasted a few moments before lights turned on overhead and she was surrounded by herself. Fear seized her heart before she realized it was simply her reflection, a series of mirrors in various shapes and sizes surrounding her. The reflections were distorted, some taller, some shorter, some making her look like she’d been pulled by a saltwater taffy machine. It would have made her laugh if the Stranger didn’t make her so uncomfortable.

It had almost claimed her so many times, she’d lost count. After she’d run back into the tunnels to turn on the fire suppression system, she’d outrun more than just worms. It had come back for her in the tunnels a second time and she’d only barely escaped it with the help of Leitner. Nikola, who she knew from the stories Tim had told her in the dark about his brother, had snatched her up and taunted her. Michael, the entity she had considered her one of the only allies she had with the power to do anything to help her, all but vanished in its attempts to help her, reminding her that she was just like her predecessor.

Then there was the Unknowing. She told Tim not to do anything rash, but he’d faced Nikola himself, looked right back at her when he clicked the button, and after the rubble was cleared and he was gone, she had to accept that her best friend and the only person to have truly seen her was dead. By the time the Not-Them was set after her, she wasn’t sure it had anything to take left. Maybe it would be a kindness to let it take her life, see if it couldn’t ruin things anymore than she already had. It was still out there somewhere, but it was in an apocalypse of her own making. It couldn’t be too happy and that was of some comfort.

She assured herself to be brave, the thing she had never once considered herself to be before, pushing past the line of mirrors. They were too tall for her to see how truly big this place was and she knew the tent she saw from outside was merely a facade. The stranger could make sure these halls could go on forever, surrounded by only the company of her distorted reflections until she could no longer remember what the real her looked like. She kept her head down and kept moving, letting the Eye do its job. To find where he was in the maze.

Her head lifted up when she heard the faint sound of whimpering. It was a sound she didn’t recognize, but the voice was one she could recognize in her sleep. She let the Eye guide her feet, ignoring the temptation to look at the mirrors. 

She found Tim curled up in a corner, looking smaller than she’d ever seen him before. When they’d met, he’d been bright and charismatic. When he’d died, he’d been tired and angry. This was neither of those things and she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him look so lost and frightened, at least until she remembered the night he’d told her about what happened to Danny. That night she’d held him close, as long as he needed to reassure him that she wasn’t going to disappear too.

But she did. And the longer she’d stayed in the bed of the safehouse, feeling sorry for herself, the longer she’d left him alone here, of all places. Her heart tugged a little inside her chest, but she pushed the feeling away. Guilt wouldn’t help now.

She’d stood at the edge of the hall until he’d looked up, his dark eyes wide.

“Sasha?”

The questioning in his voice gave her pause, wondering if he’d seen her before, as another illusion. “In the flesh.”

Her answer didn’t seem to reassure him as she stepped over, breath quiet and steady, while he stayed curled up, closed in on himself. He stared up at her, looking over her figure.

“Y-You look different.”

“A lot changed in the few years since I’ve seen you, Tim.” It was stated plainly as she stood over him, hands crossed over each other on top of her skirt.

“Has it been that long?” A croak slips into his voice, breaking her heart a tiny bit.

“Almost three, I think. It’s been hard to keep track since I kind of destroyed the world.”

“Oh, that was you?” The humor in his voice was weak, but it was there.

“Joint effort.” She sighed, plopping down onto the ground beside him, folding her legs underneath her. “Jimmy Magma sends his regards.”

A wheeze of a laugh escaped his lips and she couldn’t help but smile. He unraveled just a little, moving his hands away from his face so he could get a better look at her. His eyes weren’t convinced that she was real though, she Knew that much. 

“You can’t stay here, Tim. You know that, right?” Her gaze didn’t meet his, staring at her hands instead.

“I don’t want to, but there’s no way out. I tried.” He looked so tired and it took all her willpower not to reach out to him and close the short distance in between. “Besides, I-”

“What?” The Archivist asked, too eager to Know, before catching herself. “I mean… what?”

“I don’t know what it is.” His eyes fixed on a mirror across from him, eyes narrowing. “I… being here feels so close to Danny.”

“He’s not here, Tim.” She said softly.

“How do you  _ know  _ that?”

Sasha said nothing, only looking at him with an apologetic look.

“Right.”

The silence that followed was deafening, not a single sound bouncing off the rows of mirrors. She turned her head, seeing the one that he hadn’t torn his eyes from. It was him in the reflection, relatively normal. Too normal, even. There were no worm scars on him, no dark circles under his eyes, his shirt was clean and bright with no sign of rubble and rips. Even the glimpse she got of herself, she could see that her hand showed no signs of the burn Jude had left her with when she’d kissed the back of her hand and her hair was its natural color once more and reached her back. her glasses were perched above her head, still as necessary as they had been before Magnus had taken her and turned her into his unwitting puppet. She understood why this was the place Tim had chosen to give up, being reminded of what could have been, forever.

“...Tim.” She managed, his name falling off of her lips gently as she stared at their perfect reflection. “Please come with me.”

“I can’t.”

Sasha forced herself to look back at him as much as it hurt. The reflection in the mirror wasn’t real and never would be. It would only cause more pain to think about what might have been. “Tim, you don’t have to stay here. Martin is--”

He pulled away from her, backing into the mirror behind him. “I’m not going with you.”

“Wh-”

“How am I supposed to know that you’re even here? How do I know this isn’t another trick?” His eyes lit up, desperate and angry. “Y-You don’t even look like Sasha anymore.”

He was right, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Her mouth fell open, unsure what to say. If he didn’t believe her, it was best to go, wasn’t it? She’d already broken his heart enough times, it didn’t feel fair to do it again, just because she missed him and the world was so much more lonely and terrifying without him close by. She knew the way out, she could stand up and leave if only she could force herself to move.

“Fine. I’ll leave you here.”

Tim had no reply.

“Can I do one last thing?” He still said nothing.

Sasha scooted over in front of him, gently pushing his hands away from his face so she could take it in hers. Even with her hands cupping both of his worm-scarred cheeks, he still managed a way to avoid meeting her eyes. No matter. 

“Tim, please look at me.”

His eyes still had that wild look in them, like a cornered, scared animal. Hers were calm and glowed the gentle golden light they had before, shining even brighter among the shadows surrounding them. The reflections couldn’t capture that, no matter how hard they tried. 

“You know who I am. You know even better than I do sometimes.” Her tone was even, the same kind she had used to record statements. “Tell me who you see. And just… trust yourself, this once.”

She didn’t break their eye contact, her hands warm against his cold skin. Every muscle in him was tense and she could feel that. But she could feel the tension begin to melt away as well as some of the color returned to his eyes. Even she had forgotten that his eyes hadn’t always been that cold pitch black color, but had been a dark, warm brown instead. She could see tears beginning to well up and released a relieved sigh, knowing what was on his mind without having to Know.

“It’s you. You came for me.” He whispered, seeming to finally believe his eyes. She only got out a tiny nod before he grabbed her and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug with her head on his shoulder.

They sat like that for some time, his hand digging into her hair and keeping her anchored to him by her neck. She could hear the way his heart thundered in his chest, his breathing haggard and shaky, but he was real. They were both real and none of the illusions the Stranger could concoct could take that away from them, not when they were holding each other so tightly. After a few more shuddering breaths, Tim pulled away, his hand cupping the underside of her jaw so he could look her in the eyes. For a brief moment, she wondered what he saw. She was no longer the same Sasha she had been when she started the job, not even in appearance, with all the times she’d chopped off her hair haphazardly, how it had turned a pale white, how she’d long since given up on wearing her glasses, and how her eyes now glowed an unnatural golden rather than their former brown. But if the way he looked at her was any indication, then he knew that deep down, she was still the Sasha he’d befriended all those years ago in Research, who he’d traded secrets and jokes with. 

He tangled one of his fingers around a long white strand of hair, managing the tiniest smile. “I like what you did with your hair.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is it still me?”

“Yeah. Still you.” Tim’s smile grew fonder.

The Archivist took his hand, guiding him through the shadows and mirrors. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, not wondering which reflections shining back at them were real or not. The feeling of his hand in hers, fingers intertwined, was enough to ensure that he was still behind her as she led them out of the hall.

Martin was waiting for them outside and happily called out his name, running to hug Tim. Sasha pulled away her hand just in time to avoid getting bowled over in the process. It brought a smile to her face and a tiny chuckle. But they weren’t done yet.

* * *

The theatre was bright and grandiose. The foyer with its velvet curtains and gilded architecture boasted a show for the ages. Sasha wasn’t sure what to expect when she pushed past the empty ticket booth into the auditorium. It was empty, save for one seat in the dead center that she had once heard was the best if you wanted a good view and wanted the sound. She wasn’t much of a theatre person though. The curtains were drawn shut and no music played. 

Maybe this was a rehearsal she’d stumbled on.

“Archivist! Sit with me!”

She turned, seeing the woman waving to her. Her voice was familiar, but she would have known who Annabelle Cane was on sight if only from the glittering, vintage black gown she was wearing that she was certain must have been made in the image of some Hollywood starlet’s red carpet look. It suited her and was almost enough to make Sasha chuckle.

She stepped down the aisles, standing at the edge of the row she was sitting on. “My assistant is here. I’d like him back. Please.”

Annabelle clicked her tongue, patting the seat next to her. “Now, now, I think you should see what we’ve been working on. We’ve made so much progress, I’m afraid I’m a little hesitant to trade him.”

Reluctantly, the Archivist did as she asked and took the seat. She opened her mouth to speak but was quickly shushed with a finger to the lips. 

The curtain opened and a single spotlight shone on the stage. A man stood in the center, a little short for a dancer, stiffened into a perfect pose. His costume was made of a similarly glittering black fabric, not unlike Annabelle’s gown. While Sasha’s eyesight was considerably better now than it had ever been, she still squinted in surprise when she tried to make out who the man was.

“Jon?” She whispered in shock, still muffled by Annabelle’s finger which dug in more.

“He prefers Jonathan now. Much more dramatic.”

There was no music to signal the beginning of the dance, just him thrusting his arm out and breaking the uncomfortable silence. Not once in the years she’d known him had Sasha ever considered him to be much of a dancer, but then again, she’d never expected him to be under the control of the Web at some point during his time as her assistant. And he danced beautifully, gracefully. There was no jerkiness in his movements. But it wasn’t Jon, a realization that soon came to her. Just as the assistant who’d lied and manipulated them wasn’t really Jon.

“I want him back. I don’t know what I have to do, but I’m getting him back.” Sasha managed after a moment of watching the dance uncomfortably. 

“You’re just like that other Archivist. She sure knew how to pick them.” Annabelle snorted. “Can’t you just enjoy the show?”

“You made a mockery of me and my team when you first took him. I’m tired of--” God, she didn’t want to use that word. “ _ \--dancing _ around you and the other entities. I want him back. And I want you to leave him alone.”

“So direct.” 

“ _ Annabelle. _ ”

“We’re getting to the best part, watch.” 

It wasn’t a command, but Sasha found herself looking anyway. The ballet was beautiful, probably more enjoyable if she knew anything about it and if it wasn’t her friend having to go through the motions. He did a twirl and leaped off the stage, making Sasha’s heart drop. 

But instead of falling, invisible strings had kept him steady. He seemed to dance on midair, unphased by the lack of ground beneath him. It made her stomach turn.

“Annabelle, I want him back. Tell your entity that she can have me instead.”

There was a silence, filled only with Sasha’s heavy breathing that had grown more desperate in her anger. Then her companion laughed. Not an evil one, but it still unsettled the Archivist.

“You are very bold to assume she doesn’t already have you.”

An expected answer, Sasha thought as she deflated.

“Why do you care so much about him?” 

She sighed. “He’s my friend… and this is a  _ very  _ hard world to survive when you don’t have any. I don’t think my predecessor would have fared very well in it.”

Annabelle seemed to go quiet, perhaps taking those words to heart and still watching as Jon glided to his place on stage as the dance ended and the curtains closed. Sasha reached for her hand, resting hers on top and basking in the silence.

“You know, somewhere there’s a world where you’re the bargaining chip some other Archivist is asking for back.” Annabelle hummed, looking at the Archivist.

“Do they get me back?” She asked, voice hollow.

“Oh, I’m not a psychic, Archivist. That’s your job.”

What a perfectly cryptic answer. She wasn’t sure she expected anything less. 

Annabelle leaned over and pressed her lips to Sasha’s cheek, leaving a dark lipstick mark behind and likely a bit of webbing too, based on how sticky it felt. “Go get your assistant. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

The curtains drew open again and Jon, posed like he was ready to begin the dance again, was alone on the stage. The strings were more visible now, shining under the light. And then they snapped and he collapsed to the ground with a thud.

“Jon!” Sasha called out, moving from her seat but not before glaring at Annabelle who gave a tiny shrug of nonchalance and a playful smirk.

She hurried down the red carpet aisle, hefting herself onto the stage over the empty orchestra pit. The soft, familiar groaning helped give her some comfort as she saw him move to rub his head. Crouching beside him, she saw him open his eyes, blinking and confused.

“Where am I?” He muttered, untangling himself from the spider silk strings. His clothes looked significantly more normal now instead of the costume Annabelle had made for him in anticipation of his debut. “And why can’t I feel my legs?”

“You haven’t used them in awhile. Here, let me help.” 

Sasha draped his arm over her shoulder and lifted him up with the strength she could muster, which wasn’t much, but was more than enough for him. He teetered, like a baby deer trying to stand for the first time, but he found his balance eventually.

“Did I… Was I trying out for something?” He murmured, looking around.

“Jon, what year is it?”

“‘16, I think? My head’s a little fuzzy.” Jon admitted sheepishly. “Did you do something with your hair?”

She pursed her lips, nodding slowly. “We have a lot to talk about, Jon. But I think there’s some people that would like to see you now that you’re feeling yourself again.”

They walked down the aisle together, him on wobbly steps. Annabelle was gone, but the smell of her perfume remained as a reminder to Sasha that she’d even been there in the first place. As they came back to the door, she took a deep breath and squeezed Jon’s hand before they entered the world outside with bated breath.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @ timsashas. currently doing pwyw fluff commissions over there.


End file.
